


While We Were Sleeping

by agentverbivore (verbivore8642)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fitz's POV, Fluff, Friendship, Napping, Pining, Romance, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:52:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/agentverbivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout their friendship, Fitz and Simmons have sometimes fallen asleep next to each other. Some naps are more important than others.</p><p>Three naps, two couches, and a pillow fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While We Were Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to MK for editing, and indulging my obsession!

The first thing Fitz noticed as he slowly faded back into consciousness was the whirr of the laboratory’s fans. It was finals week in his first semester at the Academy, and after having been awake for most of the past three days he couldn’t quite remember when he’d fallen asleep. He also had no desire to open his eyes, however, as he was warm exactly where he was and was hugging….

Fitz’s eyes snapped open, but he managed to not move. His arm was wrapped around the midsection of his new lab partner, and she was sleeping just as peacefully as he had been a moment before. They were lying on the moth-eaten sofa in the corner of the freshman lab, the one dubbed “the petri couch” because lord only knows what had happened to it in school years past. Fitz tried to figure out what had happened, noting with a vague sense of panic that her right arm had trapped his, meaning that he couldn’t move away unnoticed, even if he’d wanted to. 

He and Dr. Simmons had been reworking the simulation of their final project. It was due tomorrow at noon, and they were still trying to perfect the serum’s delivery method. After Fitz had fallen asleep over the holo-keyboard and accidentally changed their results for the second time in an hour, Dr. Simmons had insisted that he sleep for at least two hours. She had promised that she would keep working while he rested — but then clearly something else had happened. 

The sofa itself was one of those large ones that bent into an angle; Fitz raised his head an inch and noted that a binder of notes and research was lying open along the other, smaller side of the sofa. That must have been what happened, he mused to himself. She had gone to the couch to make notes, or review something, and had fallen asleep, possibly partially on top of him. They must have rearranged themselves more comfortably in their sleep. This may have seemed unlikely to anyone else, but Fitz had gone through a brief sleepwalking phase when he was a kid, when he’d wake up curled around his high school-level engineering kits. Moving a little to make room for someone else wasn’t that much of a stretch. 

He lowered his head back down gently, and noted how every length of her was pressed against him. Considering the necessary frigidity of the lab’s air system, this felt very welcome indeed — but the problem now was figuring out a way to extricate himself from the situation, preferably without waking her up. Fitz may not have had many friends in his short life, but he was pretty sure that friendships didn’t usually start by spooning on a public couch. 

She smelled faintly of flowers — lavender, he thought — and antiseptic. Fitz had decided last week that Dr. Simmons was the only person worth his time in their year at the Academy, and the idea of ruining a budding friendship by either failing their final project or embarrassing her stabbed painfully at his gut. Besides, the longer he stayed in this position, the more he was forced to notice the smoothness of her skin and that she was a  _girl_  — and a beautiful one at that — and those thoughts were unacceptable. Her brilliance came first, and anything else was certainly a waste of Fitz’s time. 

So, with that thought, Fitz slid gently as far back into the cushions as he could go and managed to get himself down by her knees before he had to truly pull his arm free of hers — and woke her up. 

By the time Dr Simmons was blinking the world into focus, Fitz had scooted all the way down to the end of the couch, past where her feet rested. “Dr. Fitz…” She seemed to awaken fully then and sat straight up. “Oh, no. I overslept.” He tried to interrupt, but she talked over him, as if she compulsively needed to explain herself. “How long has it been? Oh God, two hours — I’m so sorry Dr. Fitz, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Or make you uncomfortable, I was trying so hard not to disturb you. It’s just so  _cold_  in here, and I was only going to lie next to you for a couple of minutes, to warm up, but – I’m terribly sorry — can you forgive me?”

Oh. Well, that explained that. She stared at him, almost cringing, waiting for him to be upset or annoyed, when really he was neither. Fitz grinned and shrugged. “Nothing to forgive –” He was interrupted by a yawn. “I don’t think I’ve slept that well since before Professor Vaughn handed out the final assignment.” 

She smiled brightly back at him, more than a hint of relief tingeing her voice. “Splendid! Now, let’s get back to work, shall we, Dr. Fitz?” 

He followed her back to their primary worktable and slung on his lab coat. “You know, everyone else just calls me Fitz. The ‘doctor’ seems kind of ridiculous here, since, you know, we’re all doctors.”

She shrugged, already striking the keys to bring up the new simulation. “Well, you’ve been calling me Dr. Simmons.”

“Fair enough.” He moved behind her and snapped open a notebook; she glanced back at him. “Fitz and Simmons sound good to you, then?” 

Another smile quirked up her lips, and she raised her hand over the enter key. “Sounds just right,” she replied, and pressed the button. The simulator lowered bluish holograms from the ceiling projector, and Fitz smiled; they’d be good partners – he could tell.

———

When Fitz woke up and discovered Simmons fast asleep on top of him, head resting on his chest, he thanked his lucky stars that the rest of the team was already in their respective bunks. He sighed, and then cringed, holding his breath until he was sure that he hadn’t woken Simmons up. Inevitable, really, that once he’d drifted off Simmons would follow soon after; it wasn’t the first time they’d fallen asleep together while working, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Things were different this time, though; they were on the couch in the common room of the Bus, to begin with, and he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of his new-ish co-workers finding him and Simmons like this. They might get the wrong idea, and that would be completely unacceptable. Then there was the fact that Simmons had almost died two weeks ago, and that had changed everything. More disconcerting than that, though, was the dream Fitz had two nights ago, in which Simmons starred and which made Fitz blush at the very memory.

The dream had started normally, a recurring dream with Fitz working in his old Academy lab with capuchin assistants. But Simmons had appeared, gliding past the chattering monkeys to where Fitz was standing, and then they were kissing, Fitz pressed against the wall that appeared suddenly behind him as he gripped onto dream-Simmons’ sundress. His eyes were closed as he trailed his lips over Simmons’ jaw, but he could also see them both from across the room, her standing against him, impossibly close and yet not close enough. He woke up panting, every touch as vivid as it had been while asleep. That morning he took the first real cold shower he’d needed since Sci-Ops, and the last one certainly hadn’t been because of Simmons.

The problem was that he hadn’t been able to properly scrub the dream from his memory, and this nap was the closest he’d been to Simmons since the bloody dream had happened. Before this, before the Bus, before she had almost been ripped from him, it had never  _mattered_  that she was a woman; if they fell asleep next to each other after a long day of research and development, they would just disentangle themselves afterwards and go back to work. Now, Fitz was hyper-aware of the fact that he could feel all of her curves pressed against his side, and he hated himself a little bit. It felt like a violation of their friendship, and that was the last thing Fitz wanted in the world. After fearing for Simmons’ life, that is.

As Fitz lay on the couch, absently petting Simmons’ arm, she gently exhaled a breath over the holes in his button-down shirt, and he clenched his jaw. This had to stop. He was just about to wake Simmons up when footsteps echoed up the metal staircase, and he froze as May strode into the room. She was wearing workout clothes, had a towel draped around her shoulders, and just stared impassively back at Fitz when he made a strangled gulping noise.

Without thinking, Fitz scrambled up and off the couch, dumping a startled Simmons back onto the cushions in the process. She let out a muffled “ _oof_ ” of surprise and turned to see Fitz crossing-and-uncrossing his arms as he stood uncomfortably in front of May.

“Hey, May, you’re up late, exercising I see, that’s very – very good, we were just working and fell asleep, you know how that goes, right? Good, yeah, I’m – going to bed. Now.” Fitz stuttered all that very fast – faster, even, than Simmons spoke when she was stressed about an experiment – and stared at the looks on Simmons’ and May’s faces. Simmons, for her part, looked as thoroughly confused as Fitz felt; May took a swig from her water bottle. “Night then!” Fitz said, and sped back to his bunk as quickly as he could without running, ignoring the more-than-faint squeak in his own voice. 

A few minutes later, after Fitz had finished punching one of his pillows into the mattress, there was a timid knock on his door. He took a deep breath, and called out “Come in.”

Simmons slid the door open just enough to peek her head through. “Are – are you okay, Fitz?”

He smiled before he could stop himself. “Yeah, of course I am.”

She knew him too well to believe that for a second. “You didn’t  _seem_  okay.”

Keeping eye contact with his best friend, he shrugged slightly. “Just… I had a really weird dream. May’s footsteps woke me up, and – I should apologize to her…”

Simmons smiled a little, clearly relieved, and shook her head. “I don’t think May will care, to be honest.”

“Right,” Fitz muttered, idly wondering how much it would hurt if he punched himself in the face.

“I’m glad that’s all it was, though. Just a dream.” Simmons smiled encouragingly and reached for the door handle. “Night!”

He raised his hand in reply and stared at the door as it clicked shut. That night, he fell asleep to muddled thoughts about the seductive powers of couch cushions and yellow sundresses.

———

After an all night mission, everyone was puttering lazily around the Bus – well, May and Trip were sparring downstairs, but that was their version of relaxing. Fitz was headed from unpacking his field kit back to his room when he saw the door to Jemma’s room was half-open. She was curled in a tight ball at the edge of her bed, fast asleep, and Fitz grinned.

He’d shooed her away after the second time she bumped into a table; she’d pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth and retreated upstairs. Evidently she’d been as tired as she seemed, because that had only been about ten minutes ago. Fitz yawned, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and when he opened them again Jemma was staring back at him, amusement teasing at corner of her mouth.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“Um. No.”

“Fitz.”

“Definitely not.”

“Then why have you been standing there for the past five minutes?”

“So you  _weren’t_  sleeping!”

“I was until my boyfriend woke me up by leaning against the doorway and staring at me.”

He crossed his arms. “There’s no way you could’ve known it was me, your eyes were closed the whole time.”

She sat up and pointed at him, victorious. “Ah-HA!”

“I mean…”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“I am  _not_  – you, you’re one to talk, Miss Dissects-Dead-Things-For-Fun.”

“At least I don’t stare at my boyfriend while he’s sleeping.”

Fitz lifted his hands in submission. “I was just thinking about when we first became best friends, at the Academy.”

Jemma scrunched up her face and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Eugh, that first project with Professor Vaughn? That was  _horrible_. I can’t believe he curved the whole thing, it was  _so_  unfair –”

Fitz chuckled, interrupting her. “No, during the final – when we, you know.”

There was a moment of silence where Jemma frowned back at him before she brightened in recognition. “ _Oh_  – when we fell asleep on the petri couch?” He nodded. “Really? That’s when you think –”

“Yeah. For me, anyway. Never doubted you again, after that.” He realized he was staring down at his shoes again and forced himself to look back at Jemma. They’d been dating for long enough that he needed to be able to tell her these things without feeling embarrassed.

“Aww, Fitz.” She reached her hand out and pulled him down onto the end of her bed. They sat together peacefully for a moment, Jemma smoothing her thumb over the back of Fitz’s hand.

“You know,” he couldn’t help interjecting, “studies have shown that long periods of physical contact stimulate chemicals in the brain that promote trust.” He regretted saying it almost as soon as it was out of his mouth; it sounded suddenly sophomoric, rather than the romantic statement he’d practiced in his head.

Jemma, as he suspected, scoffed. “Studies, indeed. Nothing like they could have done at Sci Ops, if they’d been at all interested, and don’t even get me started on the imprecision of civilian psychological tests.”

Amused, Fitz sighed dramatically and plopped backwards onto the bed. “You have to be precise about everything.”

She winced. “Sorry…”

“No, no –” He leaned up on one arm to look at her. “I like it. It’s one of the things I liked about you right off – makes everything very clear.” Her apologetic face softened, and he grinned. “And it means I get to tease you about it as much as I want.”

Before he could blink, Jemma whipped a pillow at his face, knocking him back onto the comforter. He popped back up and whacked her on the legs, drawing out a surprised laugh. Jemma narrowed her eyes mischievously, and then leapt forward with a second pillow and pinned him to the bed as she yelled, “For England!” Fitz cracked up and got a pillow in the mouth. When Jemma paused to make sure he could breathe, he took the opportunity to tackle her backwards.

They wrestled on the bed, both giggling hard enough that they could hardly breathe amongst periodic cries of “Scottish cheat” and “bloody bossy English.” Inevitably, however, Jemma ended up with both pillows held up high, sitting on Fitz’s legs to keep him pinned down.

“Say it!”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Jemma Simmons is King of the Bus.”

She beamed down at him. “Damn straight,” she said, yawning heavily. “Alright, enough with that. Nap with me, Fitz.”

He raised an eyebrow as she rolled off of him and tossed the pillows of his ignominious defeat back onto the bed. “You’re asking me to nap with you?”

“It’s freezing in here and you’re  _just_  the right temperature.” She tugged him onto his side and snuggled into his chest, sliding one leg between his. His muscles tensed, his libido momentarily on high alert, and then relaxed as he made himself think about the engineering drills he used to have to complete every morning at the Academy. After all, they’d been doing plenty of their own “morning experiments” recently; there’d be time enough for that later.

Jemma didn’t seem any the wiser of his brief panic and was already breathing the slow pattern of someone who was well on her way to being fully asleep. Letting himself drift off, too, Fitz pressed a kiss to her forehead, breathing in that smell that was so very  _Jemma_  – light lavender over something a little chemical. Even if she thought it was ridiculous, Fitz couldn’t help but feel that he’d fallen in love with Jemma while she was sleeping, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

———

Both Jemma and Fitz awoke a couple hours later feeling completely refreshed. Until, that is, they saw the photo of them cuddling in bed that Skye had uploaded to every video screen in the Bus. They made sure to never leave the door open again.  


End file.
